Hockey Night in P3X 712
by Rostand
Summary: Jack finds out that hockey, like math and music, is truly universal.


Hockey Night in P3X 712 Hockey Night in P3X 712 

Jack huffed slightly as he crested the snow-covered ridge. Another planet forgotten by the Asgard, another bunch of people who spoke a strange form of Old English that Jack could barely understand but which Daniel delighted in. Another standard mission to a pre-industrial village of hide-and-stone huts. And in the middle of winter. 

Not that Jack minded the cold. He had grown up in the cold, it was a familiar chill. Daniel and Sam had often thrown him odd looks for shedding an outer layer while they shivered in their BDUs. He even liked the cold. Usually he liked the snow, too, but this was a grainy, crusty snow, no good for anything, that crunched under his boots as he walked. Daniel was back with the village chief – headman – thing. Thane. That was the title. Talking about God knows what. Sam had gotten sucked into a group of women weaving, and last he had seen her she was poking about the loom and gesturing animatedly. He would never understand those two. Teal'c – well, Teal'c was doing his impassive lurking thing. With that look. The one that always kinda unsettled Jack, because it was a look no human could duplicate entirely. 

So Jack was on his own, tramping about in the cold, snowy pine forest that surrounded the little village some distance from the Stargate. Ostensibly he was doing a perimeter sweep – really, he just didn't want to sit around hearing Daniel jabber on like something out of Beowulf. Which Jack had seen on Wishbone once. 

Childish shouts caught his attention, the sound sharp on the crisp winter air. It drew him like a shiny piece of tinfoil, until he was standing on this ridge. A grin spread over his face at the all-too familiar sight that greeted him, his gun lowered and slung across his back almost reflexively as he began to scrabble down the slope, hitting a worn path to the bottom. A dozen figures glided over the frozen pond, makeshift sticks in their hands and a hard round ball bouncing from player to player, boys of all ages. The youngest was around eight, the oldest sixteen. Jack had heard once that the Norse had invented hockey, but it had never really sunk in until now. 

A fallen log along one side of the pond formed a makeshift bench, with only one inhabitant – a young girl, maybe twelve, who watched the boys with a look of envy and resentment. Jack could imagine why, by the way she clutched the twin blades of bone in her hand. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, fully aware she would have no clue what he was saying. 

She looked at him, startled but fearless, and he saw a purpling bruise spreading over one cheekbone and under her eye. He gestured at the wood beside her and she nodded curtly, shuffling over half a bum space. He sat down with a sigh, his knees protesting at the sudden change of angle, and leaned the gun against the trunk beside him. The girl steadfastly ignored him, but he saw the furtive, curious looks he sent her way. By now the players had noticed him, too, the play slowing and stopping as they turned to look. He gave them a, "Don't mind me!" wave and settled back to watch. The game was simpler than his incarnation of blue lines and icing, with two rocks marking the goalposts on either end of the uneven pond. As he watched the boys skate back and forth, his mind drifted back to his own days of speeding down the 'HAckey paNd', as the old hand-painted sign nailed to a nearby tree had pronounced, dreaming of Bobby Orr and Rocket Richard. 

Another voice suddenly cut across the shouts and jeers of the boys – strident, shrill, and female. Jack smothered a snicker as one of the boys groaned and skated off the pond, stumbling through the marshy, half-frozen mud at the end. He plunked down on the log beside them and unbound the bone skates from his boots, carefully cleaning them off with the hem of his tunic. As he turned to leave, the eldest boy called something that made him stop and turn. 

Jack blinked in surprise as the skates and stick were thrust out at him, accepting them automatically. The boy just shrugged, called something to the other players, and began to make his way up the hill. The oldest boy skated to the edge of the pond, coming to a wobbly halt and glaring with a definite challenge at the colonel. He knew that the right thing to do would be to decline, not interfere – but he found himself balancing the blade on a nearby rock, a groove worn into it by just this purpose, and lacing the leather thong tightly around his boots. The blades were wide, slightly uneven, and he wobbled as he stood, having to hang onto the stick for support. There was a smattering of snickers from the boys, which Jack returned with an even glare. He turned to the girl and held out his hand. "Coming?" 

She looked at him, surprised, then at the boys, who muttered uncomfortably. But the lead boy just smirked and nodded, before casting a comment over his shoulder. The other boys burst out laughing, but the girl reddened, standing and launching back a fierce vituperation. Quickly and deftly, she laced on her own skates and retrieved a cruder stick from beside the log, stepping out easily on to the ice. 

Jack was ashamed to admit that he almost fell when his blades touched the rough, greenish ice. He hadn't been skating in almost a year, and it had been many, many years before that since he had ventured outside the arena. The blades were uneven and slower than what he was used to, but he soon compensated. While the kids watched, he did a few slow circles of the pond to get his bearings, gradually speeding up until finally he whipped around the small group and came to a perfect stop, a sheet of dirty ice flying up in a graceful arc. His grin was childish as he slapped his stick on the ice. The eldest boy returned the gesture, then dropped the ball between them. 

Jack took the face-off easily, his knees suddenly youthful as he sped down the ice. He lost control of the ball over a small dip, and it was stolen by one of the younger boys, who brought it back up. It was quickly knicked by the girl, who was apparently as good a skater as any of her male counterparts. She passed it up to Jack and the game began for real. It was apparent that it was Jack and the girl against the rest of them, but as Jack dipped and dodged and deked and scored, one of the boys came up and touched his arm with a smile. So Jack passed him the puck. Before long, the teams were almost equal, and the play went back and forth, either side scoring a goal once in a while. Jack wasn't keeping track, and he was fairly sure no one else was, either. 

When Jack dropped the puck in the goal once again, the eldest boy glided over with a smile on his face. He said something, then crudely re-enacted Jack's earlier stop and some of his fancier footwork. 

"You want me to teach you?" Jack asked, surprised. A hockey clinic on a planet halfway across the galaxy. Just another day at the office. He shrugged off the heavy BDU jacket, overheating from his exertion, and tossed it to one side, where it snagged on a branch. "Sure." 

Daniel blinked as he emerged into the crisp winter daylight, his breath steaming. His brow furrowed as he looked around for Jack, and he wandered over to where Teal'c stood by Sam, who had a lapful of yarn. "Hey, guys, have you seen Jack?" he asked, distractedly. 

"I have not seen Colonel O'Niell since he began his sweep," Teal'c replied. "Have you, Major Carter?" 

Sam pursed her lips, thinking. "No, I don't think I have. This could be bad." She began to gather up the yarn, placing it back in the baskets as she stood up and dusted off the seat of her pants. 

One of the women looked up at her and asked in the Norse tongue, "Where are you going?" 

"We have to find our friend," Daniel replied in the same mode. "The man who was with us." 

"The grey-haired one?" another of the women asked, peering up at him. "My son says he is with the children." 

Daniel glanced at Sam and Teal'c. "She says that Jack is with the children." He turned back to her. "Where can we find them?" 

"The path, over there," she replied, pointing to a track just visible through the pines. 

"Thank you," Daniel replied, then jerked his head for the other two to follow him. Sam led the way down the path, her gun at the ready, and Daniel almost ran into her as they crested the same hill. "Sam, wha . . ." His voice trailed off as he took in the sudden grin on her face, and then the scene below. Jack was guiding a group of kids through a makeshift obstacle course, making them do some fancy footwork and finishing with the goalie stop. Finally, at the kids' urging, Jack completed the course himself, with a special cocky finesse. As he slid to a dramatic halt, Daniel and Sam burst into applause, and he almost fell, caught off-guard. 

"Hey guys, what's up?" Jack said, skating close enough to the edge of the pond to talk to them, but not close enough to bog down in the muddy slush, his cheeks red with cold and exertion. 

"You look like you're having fun," Sam drawled, not hiding her grin. 

He shruged. "Hockey. Like math and music, universal." He gestured at the game going on behind him. "Care to try?" 

Daniel's and Sam's eyes bugged out, and the archaeologist held up his hands. "Oh no no no no," he stammered. 

"C'mon, Danny," Jack wheedled. "It's fun." 

"I've been skating once in my life," Daniel said. "I don't exactly want to repeat that experience. Get Teal'c to do it." 

"I believe I will decline," Teal'c said, with magnificient dignity considering his looked queasy at the very thought. "Perhaps MajorCarter . . ." 

"Oh, no, Teal'c, you are not getting me into this," Sam declared, backing up a few steps. 

Jack just glanced over his shoulder at the quasi-Viking kids. "Bambinos! Attack!" 

"I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you . . ." Daniel muttered, squeezing his eyes shut as Jack skated backwards slowly, the hand clamped around Daniel's forearm dragging the linguist across the uneven ice. 

"Danny . . ." Jack said, cajoling. "C'mon, open your eyes. This can't be worse than the Goa'uld." 

Daniel cautiously opened his eyes, his baby blues wide and scared as he looked into Jack's face. He wobbled, the skates threatening to shoot out from under him, but jack steadied hum easily, somehow managing to thwart the laws of friction to keep himself stationary as Daniel fell against him. 

"Okay, Danny," he said. "Now just start moving your legs. Like crosscountry skiing." 

"I've never been skiing," Daniel replied through gritted teeth, but he obligingly began to move, short timid strides. Gradually his strides became longer and he didn't wobble so much on the narrow bone skates. Jack swung around to his side, but Daniel kept a deathgrip on his arm. Jack was going to have bruises there the next day, but he didn't really care. 

The ice suddenly tremored, and Daniel windmilled frantically, trying to stay upright. Jack quickly grabbed him around the waist, keeping him from falling. Teal'c was down, but he soon clambered to his feet assissted by the gang of children who were teaching him to skate. Sam, once dragged in to the frozen pond, had turned out to be a passable skater on her own. She and the tomboy were making slow loops of the pond, avoiding the boys. As they glided past Jack and Daniel, the men could hear her humming the skating theme from Charlie Brown's Christmas special. 

"You okay?" Jack asked as Daniel regained his balance. 

"Yeah, I'm good," he replied after a moment. 

"Good," Jack replied, swinging around to his side and tucking his arm around Daniel's. "Christmas time is here . . . snowflakes fill the air . . . la la la da da da . . . favourite time of year . . ." 

"Shut up," Daniel said, but he was smiling. They moved in wobbly circles, Daniel gaining confidence with every glide. Jack knew he should probably let go of Daniel's arm, if not his hand, but he really didn't want to. Eventually, he forced himself to string Daniel out, their fingers twined tightly. Daniel gave him a rather panicky look, but Jack just smiled encouragingly at him, a smile that Daniel tremulously returned. Slowly, Jack untwined their fingers, finally letting Daniel go completely. 

The archaeologist wobbled, wavered, recovered, took two strong glides, and tripped over a bump in the ice. He went down in a flail of arms. Jack instinctively grabbed for him and was pulled down as well, landing in a heap on the ice. It was obviously the wrong spot on the ice, because as soon as the combined weight went down, there was an ominous cracking sound and the cloudy ice disappeared, dumping them into icy water. Jack felt a brief moment of panic, until his feet hit a mucky bottom a moment later and he stood. They were near the far edge of the pond, and the water was only chest deep. 

"ColonelO'Neill, DanielJackson, are you unharmed?" Teal'c asked, standing a safe distance from edge of the hole. 

"Yeah, we're fine," Jack muttered. 

"C-cold," Daniel added. 

Jack glanced at his watch, automatically checking to see if it was waterlogged, and realised what time it was. "Whoa. C'mon kids, we've gotta be heading back. Hammond'll be doing his nut." 

They said goodbye to the children at the top of the snowy rise, having returned the borrowed skates. The kids jabbered praise at Jack, and the little tomboy laid a quick peck on his reddened cheek. They skirted the village for the short walk back to the Stargate, dialling home without difficulty. 

"What the hell happened to you?" Hammond demanded as SG-1 emerged through the event horizon, all four of them red from cold and exercise, and Daniel and Jack soaked up to the armpits. 

"Nothing much, sir," Jack replied lightly. "Just scouting the farm team for the AHL." 

"AHL?" 

"Asgard Hockey League, sir." 

**FIN**


End file.
